


A regular Fred Astaire

by galwednesday



Series: Tumblr ficlets 2018 [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dance Dance Revolution - Freeform, Dancing, First Dance, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galwednesday/pseuds/galwednesday
Summary: “Bucky,” Steve said, straining desperately against his hold. “Bucky, Idon’t know how to dance.”“This ain’t dancing, Steve.” Bucky used a strategic shoulder shove and hip-check to get Steve in position on the second dance pad. There were already a few people looking their way, probably drawn by the sight of Bucky hauling Steve across the arcade floor by his shirt like he was a particularly tall toddler determined to play in traffic. “This is DDR.”“Dance Dance REV-O-LUTION,” the arcade machine announced. It sounded smug, like it already knew how much of a fool Steve was about to make of himself.





	A regular Fred Astaire

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Stucky +Dance :D :D :D (ur the best tks kisses)"

“Bucky,” Steve said, straining desperately against his hold. “Bucky, I _don’t know how to dance_.”

“This ain’t dancing, Steve.” Bucky used a strategic shoulder shove and hip-check to get Steve in position on the second dance pad. There were already a few people looking their way, probably drawn by the sight of Bucky hauling Steve across the arcade floor by his shirt like he was a particularly tall toddler determined to play in traffic. “This is DDR.”

“Dance Dance REV-O-LUTION,” the arcade machine announced. It sounded smug, like it already knew how much of a fool Steve was about to make of himself.

“I don’t know how to do that, either!” Steve tried to eel sideways and head for an alternate exit--the skylight was looking pretty tempting--but Bucky got him into a casual headlock with his metal arm while he selected something on the game menu.

“You’ll learn.”

A bouncy song that Steve vaguely recognized as the kind of music Clint listened to when he was doing acrobatic warm-ups started playing. Steve stared in transfixed horror at the screen in front of him. Arrows were rising from the bottom in a steady sequence.

“ _Step_ , Steve.” Bucky was calmly walking across the dance pad, his feet landing on every arrow. His screen was full of PERFECT and AMAZING in bright green and gold. Steve’s announcer chose that moment to shout “OH MY GAWD” as though Steve had just ripped his pants off in church. He wondered wildly if flopping on the mat like a dying flounder and hitting every button at once would be an effective tactic. “Don’t look at the screen, pal, just do what I do.”

Steve turned away from the increasingly judgmental arcade game and watched Bucky’s feet. Put that way, it wasn’t so hard--he just had to step where Bucky stepped, something he’d been doing since the 40s when Bucky would scout any ground that might have been mined. If he made a misstep this time, nobody would even get blown up.

“There you go,” Bucky said approvingly, and started to step a little faster, executing half-turns and heel-toe changes. Steve copied those too, still feeling awkward in comparison to Bucky’s liquid rolls, but at least the game’s pretend crowd had stopped booing him.

“Arms too, c’mon.” Bucky brought his elbows up to demonstrate, as if he were holding an invisible partner. Steve wobbled for a second as he figured out where his hands were supposed to be, but he didn’t miss any arrows, and the game’s crowd gave him an approving roar. He was just starting to relax when Bucky swiveled abruptly and yanked Steve a quarter-turn to face him.

“Bucky, what--”

“Just keep doing what you were doing.” Bucky’s right hand folded over Steve’s left, his left hand steady on Steve’s hip. He led them through a turn and a heel-toe change. The game’s crowd started booing again, this time on both their screens, but Bucky was smiling so Steve kept mirroring him, his feet clanking loudly against the dance pad but following Bucky’s lead perfectly.

“NOOOOOOO,” the game announcer wailed dramatically, before the music cut out. Steve stumbled, but recovered quickly as Bucky kept moving to the same beat.

“Bucky,” Steve said, realization dawning about five minutes later than it should have. “We’re _dancing_.”

“Sure are.” Bucky moved backwards, stepping off the edge of the dance pad with a perfect awareness of where the floor was. Steve went with him, brand new muscle memory carrying him through the pattern of steps.

“This whole thing was a trap.”

“Sure was. You mad about it?” Bucky spun Steve around in a quick, terrifying turn while he opened a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY with his free hand. They whirled into a darkened hallway, footsteps softened by the carpet. The red light of the EXIT sign picked out sharp highlights on Bucky’s metal arm and softened the curl of his grin.

“Not if you’ll teach me how to dip you.”

“Whatever you say, Ginger Rogers,” Bucky said, and swept them out into the summer night.

 


End file.
